


down in the dog days

by cat_salad



Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is a detective, Derek is hurt, Derek is sad, Drunk!Derek, Gen, M/M, Pining, Police AU, Stiles is an investigator, Stiles looked peaceful, murdered!Stiles, the words Derek never got to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 23:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_salad/pseuds/cat_salad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First there's denial. There's always denial. That's just day one. </p><p>So he's just gonna act like Stiles is still alive. Denial. Yeah, he's gonna work with that. It's probably also why he's weeping over the phone like he was sixteen again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	down in the dog days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saucery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/gifts).



**Day 1**

_"Hello this is Stiles Stilinski's answer phone. Please leave a message. Unless you're Kate Argent. If you are Kate, piss off." Beep._

A voice so drowned in alcohol and personal problems slushed through the telephone. "Hey Stiles, this is Derek. As you can hear, I've been out drinking and I'm sorry. Usually I wouldn't call you if I were sober. Really. I wasn't even sure that my kind could get drunk. I've found out now though. But I got a call from the Sheriff. I went to the crime scene today. You were lying on your back with your arms spread wide along the road to the forest. Your jacket was spread out in the snow. It was kinda pretty in a way, I know you always took care of yourself. They said that a young couple found you late last night when they were going to the nightclub." The drunken man stumbled and had to grip onto the stair banisters to stay upright. Although he was a drunk man, he was a smart man.  
  
"Anyway, cause of death: serious injuries to the front part of your brain as a result of violent and heavy hits from a blunt object. I reckon that it's lead piping. You'd also been hit on the back of your head and received four fractures to the cranium as well as a smashed right shin bone and signs of a blow to the right shoulder. Same instrument used for all damage is what we reckon. Melissa said that the time of death put you between one and two in the morning. You seemed, . . . Uh, wait . . ."

The man stumbled again, this time not having the opportunity to properly hold onto the banister overhead, and slumped to the floor.

"The Crime Unit found about fourteen sets of footprints in the snow, which, unfortunately, have been kicked out. It was intended. _Bastard_. No witnesses have come forward yet, but we're still doing the normal questioning of the surrounding neighbourhood. Several houses overlook the alleyway, so the Sheriff says that someone may have seen something, but I think that those chances are bullshit. He's carrying out the investigations, but we're getting nowhere so far. You see, a rerun of _Star Trek_ was showing between 1.12 and 2.12 Ha, ha. Joke. See Stiles? I'm trying to be funny. _Urgh_. Oh, we found a cap a few meters away from your body. Blood was dropped in a few places, and there's a bit on the hat, so it's being sent in for blood testing. If it is your blood, then it belonged to the murderer."

The man ran his free hand through his dark hair, feeling a few spikes from his usual gel.

"We've sent the blood for analysis, and the hat is at forensics and they're checking it for hair and dead skin pieces. Nasty. If that guy is bald, I hope he's got dandruff. Ha, ha. Or maybe he's losing his hair at a really fast rate. Fucking bastard. Ha, ha. You haven't forgotten Scott and Lydia, have you? I've not got any more info for you at the moment, but do call me if you've found anything out. Umm, . . . Oh yeah, your dog staying with me now. Don't worry, I'll try to remember to feed him. Really. I will. Besides, he's really old and manky anyway." He fumbled around in his inner jacket pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. Unfocused hazel eyes tried to read the tiny scrawl. "Stiles, I found out a bit more about our case, do the words; _gunman, old man, supernatural, war,_ and _older than sixty_ , remind you of anything? I'm going to go have another beer while I think about the situation some more. I hope that you call back Stiles. Goodnight."

The line went dead.

Stiles' ugly pug dog trotted to him and gave him a curious look, head tilted to the side. Derek gave him a wry smile and trudged towards the refrigerator for his liquor.

 


End file.
